Seeds had been thrown onto the floor, dispersed by a hand wrinkled with age.

Laces had been tied. A double knot—secure. Yet, as the soles crunched the gravel, a frayed tie had come loose. It dragged along behind, snaking in the dirt, and the once-white lace had been transformed, wiggling into a yellow-dusted worm.

Wings of black silk had flapped excitedly at the sight as the scattering of arid seeds had soon all been forgotten.

Taloned feet inched forward as the crow waddled forward, past his fellow murder members, and toward the succulent, wriggling morsel.

The disguised lace was pecked and prodded as the crow snapped open his beak. But no sweet juices flowed, and no pink flesh tore, and a foot was stomped impatiently on the cotton imposter.

“Oh!” A shower of seed suddenly escaped the woman's hand, sprinkling over the crow. “My laces have been untied,” she said. “Were you trying to warn me, young one?”

Two avian feet were bounced backwards, and the crow gave a startled cawed.

Thin lines creased at the edges of the woman's eyes, and a mouth was shaped by a chip-toothed grin. “I knew you were. Here...”

In a tilt of the crow's head and the blink of a beady eye—something had been pulled from the woman’s bag. A brown paper package had been held out, the string untied. The wrapping was delicately unfolded, and a squark croaked as its contents became apparent to the crow:

Boiled eggs.

“A thank you for your troubles.” The lace was tucked securely back into the shoe, and the egg was placed before the crow.

A thought of guilt was momentarily present in the crow's mind, for the aim hadn't been to aid the woman but to satisfy his grumbling gizzard.

Yet, as the crow blinked, the sunny, golden yolk and sulphuric tang soon pecked away those troubles and the egg was devoured before his fellow family had even raised their heads.